


(Not) Dancing in the Rain

by CherryBlossomLesbian



Series: Prompt Fills [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Brainwashing, Past Torture, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Prompt Fill, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBlossomLesbian/pseuds/CherryBlossomLesbian
Summary: And there, standing on the steps of Sam's brownstone, was none other than Bucky Barnes, panting heavily with his hair and clothes drenched from the rainfall outside."I require maintenance, handler." Barnes stated in a mechanical voice, as if he was a robot and was programmed to act like this.With a sickening thought, Sam remembered that that was essentially what had happened to him."I'm not your handler." Sam said firmly. "As long as that's out of the way, come in from the rain."OR: Three days after the Triskelion falls, Bucky shows up at Sam's door, disoriented and drenched in rainwater. Sam cares for him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson
Series: Prompt Fills [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978546
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	(Not) Dancing in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Stay here, I'll get you some dry clothes to wear
> 
> [Original prompt post](https://aravenwriter.tumblr.com/post/632692362954604544/stay-here-ill-get-you-some-dry-clothes-to-wear)
> 
> Warnings: Past torture and brainwashing, as well as mentioned broken nose, mentioned hypothermia, and mentioned pneumonia.

Sam had just gotten back from spending nearly the entire day with Steve and Natasha when there was a loud knock on the door to his brownstone. 

He debated just...not answering. They'd been going over various files all day, trying to find a starting place to look for Barnes. It's been three days since the Triskelion disaster, and their second day on the Bucky hunt, as Nat had dubbed it. Steve still had a bandage on his nose, keeping his septum in place after Barnes had broken it during their fight. 

In short, he was exhausted. He wasn't sure he could manage any more human interaction, especially if the visitor at his door required more than exchanging a few pleasantries and then telling them to screw off so he could collapse in bed at 9pm. 

But, against his better judgement, he went and opened the door. 

And there, standing on the steps of Sam's brownstone, was none other than Bucky Barnes, panting heavily with his hair and clothes drenched from the rainfall outside. 

"I require maintenance, handler." Barnes stated in a mechanical voice, as if he was a robot and was programmed to act like this. 

With a sickening thought, Sam remembered that that was essentially what had happened to him. 

"I'm not your handler." Sam said firmly. "As long as that's out of the way, come in from the rain." 

Sam stepped out of the way, inviting Barnes into his home. He supposed this was not how a normal person would react to this situation, but since he met Steve Rogers, his life had been anything but normal, so he might as well just roll with it. 

Barnes looks up at him for a moment, locks their eyes together, and that's when Sam gets his first real look at Barnes' irises- the way that when he was fighting Sam, before, when he was under the brainwashing, his eyes were darkened blue, nearly black, and emotionless. 

Now they're a gentle cyan, almost like the ocean waves- and there's clearly feeling, emotion, but it's being hidden away. Sam isn't sure if Barnes is avoiding emotions intentionally, or if it's subconscious. 

After a few moments, Barnes steps through the threshold and into the house, combat boots clicking as they move across the hardwood flooring, dirtying it with rainwater and mud. 

He stands still a step away from where the wood floors of the kitchen meet the carpet of the living room, turns around, and looks directly at Sam once again as he shuts the door. He locks it for good measure, just in case Barnes is being followed. He's sure if somebody had followed him they'll break in regardless of if the front door is locked or not, but it's a start to discourage their entrance. 

"Stay here, I'll go get you some dry clothes to wear." Sam says, knowing that if he stays in the soaked clothing he'd easily catch hypothermia or pneumonia, if that's something he can even get. He'll just focus on getting Barnes warm, hopefully get him to lay down and rest, and then he can call Steve. 

Sam looks through his closet and drawers at record time to find an oversized sweatshirt with VA counselor on it that he'd been given when he first joined the VA, a pair of sweatpants that were just a little too big for him but he wore them anyway, and a pair of fuzzy socks with a cartoon squirrel printed on them. 

He folds the clothes in a neat pile and carries it back over to where Barnes hasn't moved a muscle, and holds the pile out in front of him, presenting it to the other man. Barnes was still dressed in the battle uniform he'd been in during the fall of the Triskelion, so Sam's pretty sure he hasn't changed his clothes in at least three days. 

"The bathroom is right over there, just...put your drenched clothes in the bathtub and change into these." Sam directed, voice probably a little too demanding, because Barnes immediately takes the clothes and marches over to the bathroom, slamming the door shut once he's inside. 

While Barnes is changing, Sam figures he'll get a few other things ready. He grabs the extra blankets he keeps in the guest room closet and sets them on the couch, turns the TV onto a quiet, calm documentary about exotic birds, and begins to microwave a heating pad. 

Barnes comes out of the bathroom right before the heating pad is ready, the sweatshirt and sweatpants fitting him near perfect. His hair is still damp, but there's not much Sam can do about that- he's afraid turning on a hair dryer would just make him more scared and untrusting of Sam. 

Sam nods approvingly. "You wanna go sit on the couch and we'll get ready for a nap?" He offers, and Barnes' face just twists into pure puzzlement. 

"It is not about what I want." Barnes states matter of a factly, as if the very implication he could have free thought is offensive. 

Sam's breath stills for a moment while he tries to figure out what to say next. He doesn't want to alarm Barnes by telling the other man he's a person that deserves freedom, and he doesn't want to just start commanding him around. 

"Right now it is." Sam replies back after a few beats of silence. "You get to decide what you want right now. Even if you think it would make me upset or angry." 

Barnes is quiet for a few moments, eyes going blank as if he's short circuiting. 

And once again, that thought makes Sam feel ill. 

Eventually, Barnes takes a deep breath, then walks past Sam and into the living room, sitting down in the middle of the couch. His body is tensed up and he's not leaning or laying his weight down on the sofa's back. He's still on edge, unsure if he should be here or not. 

Fearful of what will happen if he's not supposed to be here. 

Sam swallows his own fear and grabs the heating pad out of the microwave before moving to the living room, seeing that Barnes is transfixed on watching the colorful birds on the television. 

"Is it okay to put this over your chest?" Sam holds up the heating pad, and Barnes' breath hitches before he nods, finally leaning back against the couch and letting the furniture take his weight. 

He visibly relaxes then. Sam can't help but think it's the metal arm, that's it's just so heavy it takes an immense amount of strength to carry it around and keep his torso upright. Taking that stress off must be a huge relief. Normal prosthetics are built to be lightweight so the wearer can be comfortable with it on their body, but Sam doubts HYDRA cared if Barnes was comfortable in the slightest. 

Sam carefully laid the heating pad on Barnes' chest, then tucked him with the biggest, softest blanket he had. Barnes began to rub the fingers of his flesh hand over the fuzzies on the blanket, worrying them between his fingertips. It seemed to be calming him down even more, so Sam didn't see the need to stop him. 

"You want tea or hot chocolate?" Sam asks next, trying to think of everything he could possibly do to warm somebody up, even if Barnes is probably already growing too hot. It's an easy way to busy Sam's mind, though, thinking about how he can help Barnes without thinking about the logistics, consequences, and effects of having the man in his house. "I don't mean to brag, but I make a mean hot chocolate." 

"Whatever." Barnes shrugs, curling into the blanket further. Sam just takes that as a yes for the hot chocolate, so he goes to the kitchen to begin to heat the milk. 

Once he finishes, he tops the mug with a single jumbo marshmallow, and carries it out to Barnes. 

The man now has another blanket that Sam had set out draped over his shoulders, and the fuzzy one still over his chest. He's very gently rubbing the blanket on his shoulders over his cheek, as if pretending it's another human's touch, and Sam recognizes the tell-tale sign of being touch-starved immediately. 

"Here. Hot cocoa." Sam hands him the mug, and he grabs it eagerly, taking a large sip right away with his eyes closing in pure, unadulterated bliss. 

He drinks the entire thing down in a minute, leaving the marshmallow at the bottom. When he's done, he holds the mug out for Sam to take. 

He obliges, going to the kitchen to put it in the sink, and when he returns, Barnes' eyes have slipped shut and his chest is rising and falling in a steady motion, signalling his sleep. 

Sam takes a deep breath, reaches into his pants' pocket and pulls out his cell phone. 

Then, he dials Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to submit a prompt for me to write, check out the notes of my prompt fills series this fic is in!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cartersleia)
> 
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